


Icy

by yeaka



Category: Titanic (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A night that could’ve been.
Relationships: Jack Dawson/Rose DeWitt Bukater
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	Icy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Titanic or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He carries her in over the threshold, and she tries to help him get the door behind them, but Jack insists, “I’ve got it!” He’s still young, strong, in his prime, and even though she’s heavier than he’ll admit—mostly because of the many layers of her dress—he manages to shut the door around her. Then begins the arduous task of carrying his glowing bride through the hallway, up the stairs—Rose twists around to look at everything as they pass, because this will be their first night in their new house. Jack will inspect everything in the morning. He’ll help her hang her paintings and some of his own art, rearrange the furniture however she should like, and do whatever Rose wants to make this house a _home_. For now, the only thing Jack cares about is the bedroom.

He doesn’t set her down until he has a bed to do it on. It’s a large, grand thing, befitting of his bride: she’s an exquisite, gorgeous creature, all together too good for him in every way imaginable. She still said _I do._ Jack couldn’t be happier. He looks down at her with a wide smile plastered across his face: it’s a cliché, but he’s sure he’s the happiest man in all the world. 

Better still, she looks just as happy. She smiles up at him like she couldn’t have asked for a better groom, even though she might’ve had one. She could have anyone she wants. Rose DeWitt Bukater is the most striking woman in the world, and yet she chose to become Rose _Dawson_. 

She’s beautiful. Her red hair is bundled elegantly atop her head, boasting a plethora of little shimmering jewels and white flowers. Her veil’s drawn back to display her perfect face. Her white gown flows off of her like water, the intricate lace like icing on a cake, and she looks delicious. He can’t stop looking at her. Her peach skin seems to shine in the starlight through their open window. Jack is so _in love_ that he can barely breathe. 

She whispers, “I love you, Jack,” and there are actually tears in his eyes.

“I love you too.”

He leans down to kiss her. He cups her face in his hands, soaking in her warmth and softness, everything about her. He kisses her again, another after that, guiding her back down onto the mattress, and then he’s climbing onto the bed right with her. They maneuver around, chuckling and squirming, kicking off their shoes, until they’re lying side by side on the same pillow. Jack murmurs, “I’ve missed you.”

Rose reaches out to wipe away his tears, but her fingers don’t connect. 

She’s already fading, and Jack’s blinking his eyes open to the darkness and emptiness of his musty bedroom. He can still recall the faint scent of her perfume. He can still remember his hands intertwined with hers, even though it’s been fifty years. 

He’s an old, bitter man, desperately alone, and he shuts his eyes again to dream of what he lost at sea.


End file.
